


Desert Fever

by Celianna



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Smut, momokai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celianna/pseuds/Celianna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the scorching sun, Momoshiro thinks everything looks hot—including Kaidoh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desert Fever

**Author's Note:**

> Rated for smut and swearing. Prequel to both Awkward Phonecall and Inviting Misunderstandings. This was supposed to be a short smut fic, but I guess I fail at writing short fics. More MomoKai can be found under my name.

In two months, summer was going to start. It’s already hot though, Japan always has hot summers and high humidity. This is why Momoshiro is sweating bullets while sitting in his winter uniform in class. They’re not supposed to be wearing their summer uniforms yet—but to hell with that, he’s going to wear it starting tomorrow! At least during tennis practice he can wear his shorts and shirt all he wants. Sometimes he wonders why he’s the only one who wears shorts most of the time, when Kaidoh would walk by him and proves that no—he’s not the only one. But Kaidoh’s a freak with clothing anyway, he likes to wear as little as possible, including no socks.  
  
“Yo, Mamushi,” says Momoshiro.  
  
Kaidoh, who is picking up some stray balls from the ground, glances up from the casket to glare at Momoshiro. Or maybe he’s glaring because the sun is in his eyes; either one is very probable.  
  
“What do you want,” he replies.  
  
Momoshiro arrogantly swings his racket across his shoulder and wipes away some of the sweat on his forehead. “I’ve always wondered, but why don’t you wear any socks?”  
  
Kaidoh frowns at him. “Why do you care?”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Then I won’t tell you.” Kaidoh returns to picking up balls again.  
  
Momoshiro bites his lip and he walks over to Kaidoh so he’s directly standing in front of him. “And why not?”  
  
A shadow of Momoshiro’s body is cast upon Kaidoh, and he glimpses up at him, still glaring—it wasn’t the sun after all—and he hisses at him. “Shut up and leave me alone, moron.”  
  
“I know why you don’t wear any,” huffs Momoshiro. “It’s because otherwise the sweat of your stinky feet will be trapped, and everyone will notice!”  
  
Kaidoh angrily casts the casket aside and he rushes to stand up, butting heads against Momoshiro. “Say that again, you asshole!”  
  
“I’m telling you that your feet stink!”  
  
“No, they don’t!”  
  
“Yes, they do! Why else do you not wear any socks then, huh?”  
  
“It’s none of your business!” Kaidoh shoves Momoshiro away.  
  
Momoshiro pushes back at Kaidoh’s chest. “I’m _making_ it my business!”  
  
“Momoshiro, Kaidoh—twenty laps!” yells the voice of their captain Tezuka.  
  
Annoyed that their fight got cut short, Momoshiro puffs out his chest and gives one final punch at Kaidoh’s arm before loitering off towards the courts to run his laps. Kaidoh reluctantly follows him, and he tries his best to step on Momoshiro’s ankles as they run.  
  
Running all those laps and arguing with Kaidoh after he already trained real hard is making Momoshiro one limp noodle in the baking sun. Soon, he’ll be served as noodle soup. His shirt clings to his back like some oversized liquid blanket; it’s soaked entirely with sweat, he probably smells as bad as Kaidoh’s feet. He’s exhausted, really—and damn thirsty. He takes a quick break to go to the sinks to cool off and replenish himself. The cold water feels cool as it splashes on top of his head, then runs down his sweaty back; it’s very refreshing. Perhaps he can skip practice and simply stick his head under the sink the entire time instead.  
  
Another student comes by to use the sink, and Momoshiro scoots over a bit, but still keeps his head under the water.  
  
“Hot day, isn’t it?” she asks. The girl attaches a hose to one of the faucets, she’s probably going to water the blooming flowerbeds or something. Momoshiro doesn’t care about flowers.  
  
“Yeah,” agrees Momoshiro. “And they expect us to keep wearing our winter uniform in this heat.”  
  
The girl chuckles, then turns on the faucet and walks away with the hose, sprinkling water on a bunch of flowerbeds not that far away from the sinks. Have they always been there? Momoshiro doesn’t really pay attention to flowers, unless they release pollen and make his nose stuffy—and suddenly a certain itch in his nose makes him sneeze and bang his head against the cement of the sink. Then he remembers he _hates_ flowers.  
  
“Moron, are you trying to knock yourself out?” comes a certain chilling snakey voice.  
  
Momoshiro tries to appear dignified while silently wincing in pain at hitting his head; Kaidoh doesn’t need to know it hurt. No way could he ever show weakness in front of him. “Shut up,” he says instead.  
  
Kaidoh takes up the last spot of the sink; the one on the far right, with Momoshiro in the middle, and the left being used by a hose. As if Kaidoh was radiating a stench that would repel anyone in its proximity, Momoshiro bent his body in a funny way to put some space between them, while still trying to keep his head under the running water. He’s pretty sure he resembles a moron for real now, but he doesn’t want to be anywhere _near_ Kaidoh’s stinky feet.  
  
“What are you doing?” asks Kaidoh. He cups his hands underneath his water, and splashes it into his face.  
  
Momoshiro tries to ignore Kaidoh, and focuses on the water. The cool, cold water, that isn’t annoying him by asking annoying questions, or like the pollen from flowers that makes him sneeze. He could have easily ignored Kaidoh if Kaidoh never said a thing and didn’t bother him. The thing is, just his sheer presence bothers him, but it is the towel that smacks the back of his head that does the trick.  
  
“Hey!” Momoshiro pulls his head away from the faucet, the tips of his hair pricking into his yes, and he glares at Kaidoh. There was a towel slung around his neck now, and he was rubbing his face dry with it. The towel which he hit Momoshiro with.  
  
“You were in the way,” says Kaidoh simply.  
  
Momoshiro clenches his wet fingers around the towel and pulls him closer. “You better apologize!”  
  
Kaidoh simply hisses at him, and grabs his shirt as well. “I don’t apologize to morons!”  
  
It really doesn’t take much to throw Momoshiro into a hissyfit with Kaidoh, it really doesn’t. It was his face; those glaring eyes, that pointy nose, those fishlips—and it was also that constant hissing at his back, and his attitude in general. Kaidoh simply pissed him off, real fast. Which is why the both of them are struggling with each other, trying to gain dominance over the other. The towel slips from Kaidoh’s neck, and lies forgotten on the ground. Until Momoshiro’s foot gets caught in it, and he falls back, landing with his butt in the sink (the water was still running). Of course, he had to pull Kaidoh along with him, so the snake crashes on top of him, knocking their heads, and painfully hitting the faucet behind himself.  
  
“You asshole!” Momoshiro whines out loud. This surge of pain shoots through his head, all the way down to his back. That fucking hurt. He’s trying to get Kaidoh off of his body, but they’re in a weird position, and the sink wasn’t easy to get out of in the first place.  
  
By now, Momoshiro is not drenched in sweat anymore, but completely wet from the water—and also completely covered by Kaidoh. “Get,” he tries to shove Kaidoh’s chest, “ _off!_ ”  
  
Kaidoh finally manages to get himself off of Momoshiro, and out of the sink, but not before tripping on the hose with his foot, and falling backwards. The hose unhooks from the faucet, and with so much water spurting out of it, the backlash makes it hit Momoshiro in the face like a real good whip. _Whack._ Momoshiro’s cheek stings like hell, and he feels a huge amount of blood pump towards it.  
  
“Fucking hell!” he curses. He clutches his cheek, as well as the back of his head, and whines and whines from pain, until he sees nothing but red, and glares at Kaidoh who is sitting on the floor, with his feet tangled in the hose. The snake has a confused expression on his face, staring wide-eyed at Momoshiro.  
  
In the background, they could hear the girl watering the flowerbeds complain about getting no more water.  
  
Momoshiro picks himself up, getting out of the sink—water dripping from all over his body—and he lunges at Kaidoh; he’s going to _kill_ that bastard. The hose hitting his cheek really hurts, and it’s like his head is being split open; it’s one of the worst pains he’s felt so far.  
  
Now they’re both on the ground, wet and dirty, the hose getting trapped between their legs, and Momoshiro tries his best to strangle Kaidoh with the end of it. Kaidoh slaps Momoshiro’s hands away, and he throws him off of his entire body, and Momoshiro rolls over behind him, and he can hear the girl screaming now. Kaidoh stands up, ripping off the hose from his neck, and he’s got this chilling _look_ in his eyes that says he’s going to kill Momoshiro. Well—bring it on, stupid snake, he was planning on killing him first. Kaidoh takes the bait, and he jumps at Momoshiro, making the both of them fall down on the floor and rolling around in the dirt, each trying to punch the other.  
  
“Stop it, you two! Stop!” the girl yells.  
  
Momoshiro is a bit busy now; please shut up.  
  
Kaidoh hisses at the girl before landing a hit on Momoshiro’s already burning cheek. And that really hurts, so much that Momoshiro sinks his teeth into Kaidoh’s arm. He screeches out loud in pain and tries to wiggle his arm to get Momoshiro to stop biting him, but Momoshiro is half biting to wish away his own pain, and the other half because he wishes pain upon Kaidoh. Momoshiro could have easily kept on biting Kaidoh forever, if it wasn’t for the fact that Kaidoh’s knee made an unpleasant contact with his precious balls.  
  
Momoshiro curses and screams out loud, letting go of Kaidoh’s arm, and he’s curling up in the fetal position while whimpering in pain. He rolls back and forth on the dirt, biting his own lip and squeezing his eyes shut. The pollen of flowers enters his nose, and he sneezes a bunch of times as well; dear god, what is wrong with this day?  
  
Kaidoh is somewhere next to him, Momoshiro can’t really keep track of what is going on when his head hurts, his cheek hurts, and his balls hurt. Everything fucking hurts. Momoshiro sneezes again.  
  
“You, maniacs!” Oh right, there was this girl.  
  
The girl stomps over towards Kaidoh, and gives him a good whack behind the head, causing his bandana to dislodge from his head and fall down. Momoshiro wants to laugh, but it’s sort of hard to when his entire body is aching, and he’s still curled up in a little ball.  
  
“You guys ruined my flowers!”  
  
Momoshiro squeezes one eye open, and there’s a dandelion threatening to stuff itself up his nose; ah, that’s where the pollen came from.   
  
“I—I,” stutters Kaidoh uncomfortably. He’s probably never been yelled at by a girl before. Serves him right; he started it.  
  
Except it’s Momoshiro who is lying in the flowerbeds, as he comes to realize once the pain ebbs away a bit. Oh wait, so that’s where he fell into after wrestling with Kaidoh? The spiky haired boy examines his surroundings; he is lying in the dirty flowerbeds, and all the pretty flowers from before are now crushed and broken, a few flowers are still standing upright—but now it looks someone stomped all over them.  
  
... Which is probably what happened.  
  
“Look at it, I worked so hard on them, and now they’re ruined! Why’d you do that?” the girl continues to whine.  
  
Kaidoh turns an interesting shade of red; he really isn’t used to being scolded by girls. So it’s fine when he beats the crap out of Momoshiro, but when it’s a cute girl addressing him he gets all shy? What a stupid dumb snake. Momoshiro kicks his foot at Kaidoh’s ankle, and he quickly hisses at him in return.  
  
“Help me get up,” he commands. He’s still in pain; mostly his balls and cheek.  
  
“Get yourself up,” replies Kaidoh angrily.  
  
“What are you going to do about my flowers!?” the girl interjects.  
  
Kaidoh shuts up again and he makes himself as small as possible in front of her, like he’s this awkward lizard trying to sneak away unnoticed. “We’re ... we’re sorry?” Momoshiro doesn’t fail to notice how that sounded like a question at the end there.  
  
“Sorry won’t bring me back my flowers,” she points out. “I’ve worked on this the entire month, and they finally started blooming in full force, and now you guys had to fight on top of them. I want them back, my beautiful flowers.”  
  
Kaidoh simply stares at his dirty feet, and Momoshiro notices there’s a dandelion stuck at the bottom of his shoe, and he tries hard not to snicker at the sight. Seeing him get scolded was fun. Since Momoshiro is still down in the dirt, he yanks at Kaidoh’s shorts. “Help me up,” he says again.  
  
Kaidoh finally caves in, and he grabs Momoshiro’s arm painfully hard and pulls him up straight in one quick motion, then immediately lets go and shuffles away a few steps. What an awkward boy.  
  
“Look, uhm—” Momoshiro stares pointedly at the girl.  
  
“Yamada, Yamada Hana,” she introduces herself.  
  
“We’re sorry Yamada, we didn’t mean to ruin your flowers.” Momoshiro plucks away a broken flower that was stuck to his knee. “If there’s anything we can do to help, we’ll be glad to do it.” He elbows Kaidoh’s side, as part of revenge, and as part as to get him to nod and smile in agreement.  
  
Kaidoh gives her the most scariest smile he’s _ever_ seen, and it makes Momoshiro’s boxers with smiley faces on it run and hide for cover.  
  
“R-right,” he says awkwardly. Geez, has the snake never talked to girls before?  
  
Momoshiro slings an arm around Kaidoh, like the best fake buds they are. They’re both wet, full of dirt, sweaty, and Momoshiro really wishes he had some spare gel with him. Oh, and there’s this huge streak of red on his cheek, and his balls probably stopped producing sperm by now.  
  
Momoshiro pulls Kaidoh closer to him, their shoulders painfully pressed up against each other. That snake better not escape. “We’re buds, we’ll help you out, right Kaidoh?” says Momoshiro while smiling brightly. He hopes Kaidoh realizes that this is just for show; if this Yamada girl would tell Tezuka ... there’d be hell to pay. Better to make up now and to never mention it again, than having to run a million laps, or worse; be kicked out of the club! Luckily Kaidoh seems to realize this; and he shyly nods his head, while trying to inch away from Momoshiro’s body. Stupid snake.  
  
“Good, because you’ll both be working on my flowerbeds every day after school until it looks exactly the same as it did before again.”  
  
Both Momoshiro and Kaidoh gulp loudly. _Every single day?_  
  
“Uhh, is that really necessary?” asks Momoshiro a bit uncertain.  
  
Yamada simply glares at them both, and it’s a glare that’s scarier than Kaidoh’s freaky smile, so Momoshiro shuts up and nervously nods his head. She goes off for about ten minutes on their irresponsible behavior, before telling them exactly what they must do every day until her flowerbed is back to normal. There’s no way they can escape their fate; they did ruin her flowers after all. But of all people, why did he have to do this with Kaidoh? When she finally stops reprimanding them and leaves, Momoshiro and Kaidoh stare at each other.  
  
“We can’t tell them,” says Momoshiro.  
  
“I know that, stupid,” says Kaidoh.  
  
They’re still staring at each other.  
  
“So what _do_ we tell them?” asks Momoshiro.  
  
“I don’t know ... that we’re working on a project together?”  
  
“Buchou won’t let us skip practice for something like that!”  
  
They’re silent for a little while. There’s no other way around it, is there? That is, until Kaidoh speaks up again.  
  
“What if ... we pretend we’re working on our doubles together?” he suggests.  
  
Momoshiro is about to fire back his stupid plan and call him a moron, when the cogs and wheels in his head start turning, and he realizes that it’s not that bad of an idea. It could actually work; they’d believe it, and they would let them practice ‘alone’, so they could secretly sneak away and work on the flowerbeds instead.  
  
“Sounds good,” he says instead. They both walk back to the courts, and talk about their ‘plan’ with Tezuka, and hope he’ll agree to give them some ‘alone time’ to work on their ‘doubles’.  
  
Surprisingly, buchou agrees, and both Momoshiro and Kaidoh have these stupid, dumbfounded expressions stricken on their faces. _Really?_ Now they have to do some girly gardening for real, and it _sucks._  
  
The next day, a very hot day as well (Momoshiro said to hell with dress code and came wearing his summer uniform), instead of practicing on the tennis courts after school like usual, Momoshiro yanks Kaidoh with him to go meet up with that girl Yamada. The evil one. He won’t be doing all this work alone, so he won’t let Kaidoh escape. There’s a bunch of bags scattered all around the flowerbeds, a couple of rakes, more bags, and loads and loads of sand spread everywhere from yesterday’s scuffle. Speaking of yesterday; Momoshiro’s cheek still hurts like a bitch, and it now has a red streak stretched across it because of said whipping.  
  
“Alright, listen up,” says Yamada loudly.  
  
Momoshiro and Kaidoh clamp their mouths shut tight.  
  
“First, you will pull out all the damaged flowers, and any weeds you may come across.” She turns on her heel and starts walking around like a drill instructor. She could be a good buchou, thinks Momoshiro off handedly. “Then, you will till the land, and add in some new fresh dirt.” The girl glares at them with evil eyes. “You got that so far?”  
  
Both tennis players sheepishly nod their heads. Kaidoh resembles something like an uncomfortable blowfish, which makes this a little bit less like torture for Momoshiro. It’s always fun to see Kaidoh squirm. He really has no girl skills. Maybe he should teach him some?  
  
“Alright, after the land is tilled, you will plant the flowers in neat rows of three, and then cover up the seeds, and water everything. This shouldn’t take more than a week or two. Okay?” She puts her hand on her hip and glares at them both.  
  
“Yes, sir!” Kaidoh squeaks out. Momoshiro elbows him in the side. “M-ma’am!” Kaidoh quickly corrects himself with a red face.  
  
“Good. I’ll come check up on you at the end of the day. Good luck. Don’t ruin it more than you already have.” With that, Yamada disappears.  
  
Momoshiro starts to snicker out loud. “Yes sir!” he mimics Kaidoh’s outburst from earlier. “You’re such an idiot!” he says with a goofy smile.  
  
Kaidoh grits his teeth, and tries to appear menacing and threatening to Momoshiro, but fails at it since his cheeks are a lovely shade of red. Momoshiro speculates that if he’s always like this around girls, then from now on, he decides he should always bring Kaidoh along if he’s going on a date with a girl. Just to see his stupid reaction. Maybe he can record a video out of it with his cellphone, and put it on YouTube. He’s sure it’ll go viral in days.  
  
“S-shut up,” Kaidoh stutters.  
  
“Don’t you know how to talk to girls?” asks Momoshiro. He flings an arm around Kaidoh’s shoulder and gives him a noogie.  
  
“Stop that, you asshole!” he pushes Momoshiro away and punches his jaw.  
  
It really didn’t take that long for them to start fighting again. It had only been what—thirty seconds after Yamada left? That had to be a record or something. Well, they wouldn’t be rivals if all they did was throw flowers at each other—fighting is what they do to let off some steam, and to simply hit each other because they really didn’t like each other.  
  
Though Momoshiro has to admit; he was quite fond of teasing the snake. Especially if he could make him turn that shade of red again. That’s always interesting.  
  
After five minutes of fighting, they’re down in the dirt again, staining their tennis shirts with large blotches of black. Kaidoh finally gets enough of it and he pushes Momoshiro away from him.  
  
“Stop it already. We have to finish this,” Kaidoh grunts out. He wipes at his lips, which Momoshiro had managed to land a hit on—it felt quite satisfying—and he gets up and takes off his shirt.  
  
Momoshiro is still down in the dirt, trying to think up a witty retort to fire back at Kaidoh, or to find an opportunity to kick him while he’s not watching. But his thoughts get kind of side tracked when he sees what’s under Kaidoh’s shirt. He’s standing right in front of the sun, so everything is shining brightly in front of him, sun rays peeking behind Kaidoh’s back. He finally tears his shirt off, and Momoshiro is sitting at the perfect angle to view Kaidoh’s heavily trained and sweaty body.  
  
He’s seen it plenty of times before; like whenever he’d catch Kaidoh training at the river beds. He liked to parade around half naked when he did that, for some strange reason (maybe he really didn’t like to wear clothes?), so it’s not the first time Momoshiro sees Kaidoh’s almost naked body. But it’s the first time that he’s squinting his eyes to scrutinize it.  
  
Or maybe it’s because the sun is in his eyes.  
  
Either way, Kaidoh is standing directly in front of Momoshiro, hissing at him, which bobs his adam’s apple, and makes the ripples of his abs tremble the tiniest bit. For lack of anything to say, Momoshiro’s mouth simply drops open and he makes a funny little noise at his own stupidity and absurdity at the situation. Kaidoh lifts up his arms, to grab the ends of his bandana, and tightens it; it had gotten a bit loose during their fight.  
  
There he is; standing with his back facing the sun, it’s lighting up all the drops of sweat like diamonds, displaying his glorious sweaty body in front of Momoshiro’s feasting eyes. With that kind of pose, he resembles some badass, buffed-out videogame character, like the character he always picks out to play whenever he plays that stupid fighting game on his PlayStation. Momoshiro has no idea why he’s thinking about Kaidoh’s body so intensively, but he’s sure the sun has got something to do with it.  
  
“You should take your shirt off too, so it won’t get dirty. They might suspect,” says Kaidoh.  
  
Without context, that sentence has way too many sexual innuendos, and now Momoshiro blushes to the roots of his hair. What the hell is wrong with him?  
  
He grunts something that was meant to sound like ‘fine’, but Momoshiro’s voice is stuck somewhere down his throat, along with his rational mind. He finally scrambles to get up from the dirt, and hesitating a bit, he takes off his own shirt as well, neatly folding it on top of the sinks behind the flower beds. Kaidoh’s helpful advice came a little bit too late; both of their shirts are already dirty.  
  
Momoshiro tries to ignore how both of them are wearing nothing but shorts at the moment, and he suddenly feels extremely awkward and exposed. He keeps quiet for once, as silent as a mouse. Though mice aren’t all that quiet, they squeak a lot, so maybe as quiet as a statue. Yeah. He kinda feels like one; rigid and stiff, and trying his best not to make himself look awkward. Kaidoh is already pulling out all the flowers, his knees digging into the earth, and his rear up in the air.  
  
It makes Momoshiro flare up his nostrils and immediately yank his head to the side; away from that suggestive and dirty pose.  
  
Seriously, what is wrong with him? Why is he making such a big deal about _Kaidoh_ of all people? It’s just that stupid Mamushi! He didn’t change a bit from yesterday!  
  
Angrily, he slams his fists down into the dirt, and tears out the flowers one by one as well. To get his mind off of these weird thoughts, Momoshiro figures it’s a good idea to start talking about girls instead. Yeah, thinking about girls is much better than thinking about snakes.  
  
“Hey, do you have any friends that are girls? Or do they all run away at the mere sight of your scary face?” Momoshiro grins at himself; he loves insulting Kaidoh.  
  
Kaidoh tilts his head backwards to hiss at Momoshiro. He throws a dead flower towards him, which falters mid-way in the air, and drops down just as easily. “Shut up, they don’t.”  
  
“Yamada certainly looked like she wanted to run away,” says Momoshiro in a sing-a-song voice.  
  
“No, she didn’t. She wanted to get away from your stench, that’s all,” Kaidoh fires back.  
  
“I don’t smell!” Actually, he kind of does. Smooth, Momoshiro, absolutely smooth. He was winning the insult battle, but now he’s horribly failing at it. He takes in a short breath and grunts. “I bet you’ve never even had a girlfriend. No, scratch that, you’ve never had a girl _talk_ to you on her own, without being forced to!”  
  
“Shut the hell up, asshole!” Kaidoh flings a fistful of dirt at Momoshiro.  
  
It hits the back of Momoshiro’s head, and he immediately turns around, his fists balled up and ready to fight again. He’s looking slightly less intimidating than normal, what with flowers being stuck in his hair now, so he tries to brush those out before glaring at Kaidoh once more.  
  
And then he notices the sweat covering Kaidoh’s chest again, and he’s struck silent.  
  
“Why do you care if I talk to girls or not,” says Kaidoh in this tiny insulted voice.   
  
Say something Momoshiro. Say something clever, something witty, some kind of insult to get Kaidoh to stop sitting in front of him with that body that’s attracting his eyes like magnets.  
  
“I don’t, I just think it’s funny you act all awkward around them.”  
  
Kaidoh’s lips form into a small puckered pout. “I don’t act awkward around them ...”  
  
“Well, you certainly don’t act like that around _me_ ,” snorts Momoshiro.  
  
A trail of sweat is starting to drop down Kaidoh’s neck, across his chest, and rolling—rolling and not stopping.  
  
“Again, why do you care?” Kaidoh asks with his eyebrows lowered. There’s some sweat trapped in those eyebrows.  
  
“I don’t.” He really doesn’t. He doesn’t care about Kaidoh’s awkwardness around girls. He doesn’t care about Kaidoh’s half naked body. And he certainly doesn’t care how it’s accentuated by the sweat rolling down it.  
  
“Stop bothering me about girls, and get back to work.”  
  
“Likewise, Mamushi.”  
  
“Dumbass.”  
  
“Idiot.”  
  
Kaidoh hisses. “Stop staring at me.”  
  
Busted. “I’m not!” His cheeks say otherwise.  
  
The snake hisses again, and Momoshiro makes himself small and sits as far away from Kaidoh as possible. They finish pulling out all the flowers in complete silence that day. Yamada congratulates them on a job well done. Momoshiro keeps glancing at Kaidoh; maybe his body is covered in magnets, that’s why his eyes won’t stop turning to look at him.  
  
It has to be. Or maybe it’s the sun.  
  
Day two doesn’t fare all that well either. The old flowers are now all pulled out, and all that is left is to till the land and add new dirt. Momoshiro is holding a rake in his hands, not quite sure what to do with it. He would know what to do with it, if he could actually focus on his tasks, which proves to be very difficult with Mamushi around again.  
  
They’re both shirtless once more, and working out in the open sun causes them to sweat. Sweat that is trickling down all over Kaidoh’s body. He looks like a fricking porn star—they usually throw water on the actors to make them look more sweaty. Well, Kaidoh’s body seemed to produce sweat like that naturally.  
  
Momoshiro is once again, drawn to Kaidoh. He can’t stop looking. For a brief period of time, Momoshiro starts to think that Kaidoh doesn’t look half that bad. No, he must be imagining things, the sun must be scrambling up his rational thoughts. Yeah. That’s exactly what it is; the sun is making him go insane. People can go insane from the unbearable heat right? Momoshiro shakes and nods his head at the same time, at no one in particular, and he tears his eyes away from Kaidoh.  
  
Except they keep gliding back to him. To that half naked body parading around in only shorts and shoes (since he doesn’t wear socks, and Momoshiro is starting to doubt he even wears underwear), raking some dirt on the ground. Every single movement is magnified by his strong muscles, and his glistening skin under the sun from all that sweat. The tension of his leg muscles, looking strong and very defined on his calves. The formation of his abs (when did he get _those!?_ ) on his stomach, ripped and ready. Everything is looking so different, so intensified, so absolutely captivating; Momoshiro really can’t stop looking. Forget that, he can’t stop _gawking._  
  
Which is why he flushes red when Kaidoh turns his head to look back at him, and catches him staring. Momoshiro swiftly shields his face with his hand and whirls around, completely embarrassed and nervous all of the sudden. What the hell is wrong with him? Why can’t he stop looking at Kaidoh? And why in the world is he blushing because that stupid snake caught him staring!? Ugh!  
  
Fumbling around with his thoughts, Momoshiro figures it’s best to say something, in case Kaidoh really starts to suspect that he was staring at him. Which he wasn’t, honestly.  
  
“Say, why don’t you wear socks?” asks Momoshiro with a jittery voice. It’s something to keep his mind off of Kaidoh’s body, and off of the blush on his cheeks. And to give Kaidoh some sort of excuse why he was watching him work under the scorching sun.  
  
“None of your business,” Kaidoh sneers at him.  
  
“Do you ever wear them at all?” Good, his blush is going down; his heart rate is turning back to normal. If they fight, then Momoshiro won’t think about weird things like how defined Kaidoh’s muscles are.  
  
“No,” he replies.  
  
“I bet you don’t wear anything underneath your clothes,” says Momoshiro. And then images of a naked Kaidoh flood his mind, and now his cheeks are cherry red once more.  
  
What the hell did he say—and why the hell is he thinking about what Kaidoh looks like underneath!?  
  
“S-stupid, of course I do,” says Kaidoh with a hiss.  
  
Momoshiro’s big mouth won’t stop blabbering. “Sure you do.” He turns towards Kaidoh, because his mind isn’t working all that well anymore. “That’s why it looks like the only thing you’re wearing are those shorts.”  
  
Why did he say that. Why. Why. _Whyyyyyy._  
  
Kaidoh looks up at Momoshiro, he can see the subtle twitching of his scary looking eyes, and how his cheeks are gradually shifting hues. Kaidoh’s lips fall open and he starts to stutter, while still twitching his eyes at Momoshiro. The hue on his cheeks have become more prominent, and they’re red. Shiny red. For some reason, it’s making Momoshiro blush red as well, and this is stupid, Momoshiro is stupid—Kaidoh is stupid. Why in the world are they having this conversation when Momoshiro can feel his own eyes undressing Kaidoh? Stupid eyes, he’s going to replace them when he gets home and takes a cold shower. Because it’s really fucking hot under this sun, and it’s really making his mind go into a tizzy.  
  
“I am,” Kaidoh manages to grunt out.  
  
Against all better judgment, and because of his lack of control, Momoshiro’s eyes wander down to Kaidoh’s shorts, and Kaidoh being the snake that he is, follows the direction of his eyes as well.  
  
“Stop looking!” Kaidoh yells out, and he quickly turns around and stomps away from Momoshiro.  
  
Well, it’s not like Momoshiro can help it. His eyes aren’t listening to him anymore, he’s going to get new ones later. Hopefully. Eye surgery is available, right? Would it cost a lot? How about being able to forget certain memories? Momoshiro doesn’t ever want to remember this again, and he certainly doesn’t want to remember the shape of Kaidoh’s calf as he strains his muscles. Momoshiro tries to shake the crazy thoughts out of his head, and blames everything on the sun. The sun that is driving him crazy. You know—like people who are lost in the desert start hallucinating things. That’s probably what’s happening to him. Yeah, it can’t be anything else.  
  
Momoshiro’s eyes dart over to Kaidoh again.  
  
Certainly, it _has_ to be desert fever.  
  
Kaidoh catches him staring again and hisses. Momoshiro, embarrassed at being caught again, childishly hisses back.  
  
He leans his arms onto the rake and looks at Kaidoh’s long and naked back, then he looks up at the sun, shielding the sunrays from his eyes with his hand. “It’s hot,” he says. It really is; it’s driving him nuts, it’s screwing everything up inside of him.  
  
“Shut up,” grunts Kaidoh.  
  
“Aren’t you hot?” asks Momoshiro.  
  
Kaidoh stops raking the dirt and he turns around again, looking at Momoshiro incredulously. Again—Momoshiro can’t stop gawking. His eyes follow the trails sweat that trickles down Kaidoh’s body, from his neck, to his collarbones, to his chest, to his navel ... Momoshiro swallows and looks back up again. There’s this look in Kaidoh’s eyes that he can’t quite place, but it probably has something to do with the fact that Momoshiro _can’t stop looking at him._  
  
“What?” says Momoshiro defensively with a shrug of his shoulders. He’s not looking on purpose—it’s his eyes! It’s the desert fever! Kaidoh’s body is made out of magnets!  
  
“What are you looking at?” Kaidoh finally asks.  
  
To be exact? Momoshiro is watching one of the beads of sweat rolling down his chest, and disappearing at the rim of his shorts like magic. He wonders if the sweat is absorbed by the shorts, or if it’s still going down and down ... and ...  
  
“Nothing important,” replies Momoshiro as he tries to ignore all those weird thoughts about Kaidoh’s sweat. But he can’t seem to stop his motormouth from working, so he adds, “you sweat a lot.”  
  
Kaidoh hisses and he glowers at Momoshiro, clutching the rake in his hands. “So do you,” he fires back.  
  
“Not as much as you,” says Momoshiro. So he might be a little bit sweaty, but that’s nothing compared to the perspiration Kaidoh is oozing. “I hope you take a shower after you get home.” Kaidoh, taking a shower. Naked under the water. The crazy images are back inside of Momoshiro’s head, but he tries his best to keep glaring at Kaidoh, despite his rosy red cheeks. It’s a sunburn, he’ll say—if anyone asks. Burned by the sun. Yes.  
  
“Of course I will, idiot. I don’t want to keep smelling like sweat all day long, like you do.”  
  
Momoshiro bites his lips; that’s so not true. He takes showers every day! Today he’s going to take a long cold shower as well. “I don’t smell like sweat,” he says lamely.  
  
Kaidoh snorts. “Yes, you do.”  
  
“No, I don’t.”  
  
“Yes, you do, you reek of it.”  
  
“No, I don’t. Come over here and take a whiff.” Momoshiro kindly stretches out his arm, so Kaidoh can come smell him.  
  
“That’s disgusting,” says Kaidoh immediately, and he turns around to resume his gardening work.  
  
“ _You’re_ disgusting,” says Momoshiro, for lack of a better insult. And it’s not even true; Kaidoh doesn’t look disgusting. Far from it. The sunburn on his cheeks is giving him the desert fever, and is making him think that Kaidoh doesn’t look half bad. In fact, he looks hot.  
  
Hot because of the sun, not hot like a girl would be hot. Never. Why is he thinking about this again? Right—desert fever.  
  
“Shut up and go back to work,” yells Kaidoh at him.  
  
And they do work, in silence, surprisingly. Momoshiro still catches himself leering at Kaidoh despite telling himself to stop it already, but his eyes aren’t listening, and the sunburn on his cheeks is starting to hurt. When it’s time to pack up, the both of them return to the tennis courts to get changed into their uniform again.  
  
“Momo, why are your cheeks so red?” asks Eiji once he spots Momo.  
  
“Sunburn,” says Momoshiro flippantly, and he enters the locker rooms.  
  
The next day, it still doesn’t get any better. In fact, Momoshiro would say that it’s worse than yesterday. Especially since he had a very weird dream last night, which involved Kaidoh. Kaidoh and some sweaty business, that he really shouldn’t want to be thinking about right now. Momoshiro sighs loudly and he takes off his shirt again, throwing it somewhere behind him, not caring if it lands in the dirt or not.  
  
“Stop doing nothing,” says Kaidoh. He walks by Momoshiro as he carries a bag of dirt. Kaidoh had already been shirtless, which meant that Momoshiro had already been leering.  
  
So yeah, eye surgery? Real expensive, and not yet available until 2040, so Momoshiro will have to wait awhile until his eyes would start to listen to him. They made it look so easy in Minority Report.  
  
“I’m doing something,” Momoshiro interjects. Staring at Kaidoh is something, in his mind. “I’m watching you work,” he says gleefully.  
  
Kaidoh kicks Momoshiro’s ankle, and Momoshiro kicks his shiny sweaty shin in return. The snake gives him this pointed look, this exhausting glance—those eyes that are staring right at Momoshiro, as if he knows something. As if he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in Momoshiro’s head, and he’s finally figured it out.  
  
Or maybe he’s just thinking too deeply, and the sun is in Kaidoh’s eyes.  
  
“Get to work, the faster we’re done, the better.”  
  
Momoshiro sticks out his tongue and rolls his eyes at Kaidoh. “Fine, but you do the heavy lifting.”  
  
Surprisingly, Kaidoh does _all_ the lifting, and Momoshiro is not about to complain. Not when all he has to do is rake the dirt as if he’s brushing someone’s hair. Oh, and, he gets to see Kaidoh crouched over a bag of dirt, his sweat rolling down the nape of his neck, onto his back. Momoshiro leans on his rake again, cocking his head to the side as he studies Kaidoh’s neck. It’s slender, and mostly hidden by his long black hair, but he can still catch a glimpse of that sweaty skin every once in a while. It looks delicate, so unlike Mamushi’s rough demeanor. It doesn’t suit him at all.  
  
Momoshiro sort of wants to touch it.  
  
Which is not something he should be wanting. Not at all. Crap—the desert fever is getting to him again, isn’t it?  
  
Kaidoh spills the bag of dirt in front of Momoshiro. “Rake it,” he demands.  
  
“Rake yourself,” replies Momoshiro immediately. He always has to disagree with whatever Kaidoh tells him.  
  
The thin and slender eyebrows on Kaidoh’s forehead lower down until it touches his long eyelashes. And that description was way too detailed for Momoshiro. He shouldn’t be noticing this, he shouldn’t be thinking about this. For a brief moment, Kaidoh’s fingers connect with Momoshiro’s, which are clasped around the wooden handle of the rake. In an instant, Momoshiro’s breath quickens, and his senses are heightened to the point of noticing all the beads of sweat on Kaidoh’s face. The sunburn on his cheeks acts up again, and it’s spreading across his entire face like wildfire.  
  
“Rake it,” Kaidoh hisses, and he pushes the rake into Momoshiro’s chest.  
  
Momoshiro coughs out a pathetic whimper as he stumbles back with the grace of falling elephant. He tightens his grip on the pole, and then promptly turns around, slamming the metal pins into the dirt and doing what Kaidoh told him; raking the dirt.  
  
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Whatever happens; don’t think about it. And certainly don’t look.  
  
Those were the words that Momoshiro kept repeating over and over inside of his head, he was clinging to the last shreds of his rational thoughts. What was left of it, at least. If he didn’t, Momoshiro knows for sure something weird will happen— _he’ll_ do something weird. He’s already feeling weird, so he certainly doesn’t want to act upon it. Definitely not. Stupid fucking Mamushi with his stupid hot body.  
  
Argh, he’s thinking about it again! He’s got to cool his head. Momoshiro flings the rake into the dirt and walks away, ignoring Kaidoh’s protests of telling him to stop slacking off. He walks towards the sink that had started this entire mess, and splashes the well needed cold water into his burning face. It feels nice, but only for a couple of seconds, before he can feel that burn on his cheeks spread to his neck and ears. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to be walking around shirtless under the sun. It’s definitely not a good idea for Kaidoh to be doing that either; he’s distracting Momoshiro. Almost like he’s doing it on purpose. Wheee, look at me and my sweaty muscular body lifting up these heavy bags! Fuck.  
  
When did Momoshiro feel so hot and bothered by this? It has to be the desert fever, it has to be, Momoshiro doesn’t know what else it could be. He splashes some more water into his face, drinks a bit too, then returns to the flowerbeds.  
  
Kaidoh isn’t there anymore, and Momoshiro breathes a sigh of relief. Good. At least he can’t get distracted and can hurry up and do his work, so he can get the hell out of there. To a place where Mamushi was fully clothed. Stupid snake. Momoshiro looks around for his stupid rake that he threw somewhere out into the dirt. In an almost comical fashion; Momoshiro finds the rake—by stepping on it. Like it was a cartoon on Sunday morning, the rake came flying back full force, and the pole hits Momoshiro square in his face.  
  
“Fuck!” he cries out in pain, and he falls back into the dirt.  
  
It was impeccable timing for Kaidoh to come walking over at that exact moment; a bag of dirt slouched over his shoulder, blocking his view. He didn’t even see Momoshiro until it was too late, and he was already stumbling across the oaf, the bag dropping down on them both, and now they’re a mess of aches and limbs.  
  
“Get—get off me!” wheezes Momoshiro. Kaidoh’s on top of him, his naked sweaty body touches Momoshiro’s naked sweaty body, and his hands are on top of Momoshiro’s chest. They are touching _everywhere_ and _everything._  
  
Kaidoh struggles to get some footing in the dirt, his legs brushing up against Momoshiro, and this is making Momoshiro’s mind spin numbingly fast. There’s friction, friction—fucking friction, and it’s heating everything up, hotter than the sun could ever make him feel. This is desert fever times a hundred. Momoshiro pushes his hands against Kaidoh’s naked sweaty chest, which proved to be a bit too much for him as their skin connected. Soft, sweaty, yet hard, the tips of his fingers are glowing warm for no good reason.  
  
“Come on!” says Momoshiro exasperatedly. Kaidoh has to get off of him, right now, or else ... or else ...  
  
“I’m trying!” The hiss that comes out of Kaidoh’s mouth at that moment, flies right by Momoshiro’s ears, and it shatters the last rational barrier inside of his mind.  
  
Momoshiro lies still, completely still, even though it feels like certain parts of his body want to jump out.  
  
Kaidoh finally manages to throw the heavy bag of dirt off of him, and pulls himself up—away from Momoshiro.  
  
Before he even gets a chance to look at Momoshiro, to see his completely red face, to see how his fingers were buried in the dirt, to see how he was biting his lips, to see that all that scuffling _had given him a boner_ , Momoshiro flips over, picks himself up and he staggers away. No way, there’s just no way. He’s hard, he’s fricking hard! All that rubbing of their bodies managed to spring it up! And it had to be Kaidoh!? Eww! That’s so disgusting!  
  
“What the hell were you on the ground for anyway!?” asks Kaidoh at Momoshiro’s retreating back.  
  
Momoshiro cups his hands in front of his shorts and hunches his head in his shoulders. He’s hoping to make himself as small as possible, small enough that Kaidoh might not see him. Like that will ever happen.  
  
“Trying to sniff the dirt up close?” says Kaidoh with a snort.  
  
“S-shut up!” Momoshiro flings back. Damnit, it’s still hard and upright. It has to go down, it has to go down now!  
  
“Fucking idiot,” mumbles Kaidoh.  
  
Momoshiro is too busy trying to get his erection to go down to care about what Kaidoh has to say right now. Which is why he almost jumps out of his skin when Kaidoh is standing right next to him, handing over the rake.  
  
“Here,” he says, his arm outstretched to Momoshiro.  
  
Momoshiro turns his body away from him, the sunburn spreading everywhere across his upper body. It’s still not going down, shit, shit, shit.  
  
“Well, take it, moron,” says Kaidoh impatiently.  
  
Momoshiro removes one hand from the safety of his shorts, and with trembling fingers, he reaches out for the rake, which is somewhere behind him—he can’t really see. He’s trying his best not to look at Kaidoh, and to hide his obvious boner. Don’t let him find out, _pleeeaassee_ don’t let him find out, that’d be the most embarrassing thing on earth. And then Kaidoh would beat him up too, and Momoshiro doesn’t want to be embarrassed and be beat up by a guy who scares away all the girls.  
  
Fingers reach out for the pole behind him, and in the process, he brushes against Kaidoh’s knuckles. An electric zing zooms through Momoshiro, all the way down to his crotch; that thing isn’t going down anytime soon. Nor is the sunburn, which seems to be permanently etched into his face now. Momoshiro is frozen in mid-action, his fingers still resting on top of Kaidoh’s knuckles, and this might seem really weird to the snake ...  
  
“What are you doing?” the snake asks.  
  
Sarcastically, he thinks; trying to get his boner down, you?  
  
“Nothing,” snaps Momoshiro. He lowers his hand, then clasps his fingers around the pole—not Kaidoh’s hand—and he yanks it out of his grip.  
  
For the next ten excruciatingly long minutes, Momoshiro rakes the dirt while simultaneously keeping his back facing Kaidoh at all times. Kaidoh isn’t that stupid, Momoshiro has to admit, as he notices that Momoshiro does a funny little spastic dance every time they might be facing each other, and how he keeps turning his back to him, and how there’s no insults being thrown around anymore.  
  
This is probably Momoshiro’s weirdest day in his life. Nothing makes sense to him anymore.  
  
Finally though, after avoiding Kaidoh like the plague, Momoshiro’s stupid erection goes limp. He breathes out a sigh of relief. At least the snake didn’t notice; that’s all that matters. Kaidoh can’t ever notice, that would mean that Momoshiro really got hard because of him, and that’s not something he wants to admit. Ever.

He flees home that day, when their time is finally up. He takes a very long and cold shower as well. Then he jerks himself off three times, to help tide him over.  
  
The next day, after school is over, Momoshiro is found standing by the sinks, shirt already off, pouring a dollop of sunscreen on his hand. He thinks that this will help prevent his sunburn from getting worse, and will somewhat cloak the red tinge on his cheeks—as well as cool down his body a little bit. But mostly, he’ll hope it will prevent ‘desert fever’ from reoccurring.  
  
“Sunscreen?” asks Kaidoh, who walks by and starts washing his hands. Once done, he takes off his shirt, he does it every time now, and Momoshiro continues to gaze at him with unblinking eyes.  
  
This is no time to be staring at Kaidoh again, not today. Not after what happened yesterday. Momoshiro shakes his head, then rubs the sunscreen in his hands before starting to apply it to his face first; it’s already heating up, and he wants to cool it down (before Kaidoh can turn around and see him). “I don’t want to get sunburned like last time,” he says.  
  
Kaidoh folds his shirt and puts it on top of the sink, right next to Momoshiro’s, then turns to the spiky haired boy, who is now rubbing his arms. “You got a sunburn? Idiot. You should have thought about that before taking your shirt off in the sun.”  
  
“Whatever. I don’t see you doing it,” Momoshiro snaps at him. He spreads the milky white substance from his shoulder, all the way to his hand, and then back up to the small of his neck.   
  
“I already did it before coming here,” Kaidoh says with a small hiss. “I’m not stupid like you.” The snake’s eyes are following the direction of Momoshiro’s hands, as they travel from his thigh, down to his bony ankle.  
  
He’s completely unaware of how Kaidoh’s eyes are uncharacteristically attached to him, when all he can do is stare at Kaidoh’s trained legs in front of him as his own hands slip down his legs. He’s not even sweating like last time, but Momoshiro can already feel himself attracted to those legs, and the sun isn’t even in his eyes! And he still isn’t wearing any socks. Furiously, he rubs faster to get this thing over with. This is stupid. Staring at Kaidoh is stupid, and Kaidoh is stupid too. After rubbing himself in, Momoshiro stands back up straight, and looks right at the stupid snake.  
  
“Okay, done, let’s get going.”  
  
But Kaidoh isn’t moving. “Idiot, you didn’t put any on your back. That’s the part of your body that’ll get most exposed to the sun if you bend over like that all day.”  
  
Right, his back. He almost forgot. Keeping eye contact with Kaidoh, Momoshiro reaches for the tube and squirts some more on his hands. Then in a very awkward position, he tries to smear it across his back, but doesn’t get much besides his lower back and parts of his shoulders. He knows he’s completely failing, and looking like an utter retard at the moment, but he doesn’t care; he will die before asking Kaidoh to do his back. _Die._  
  
“You’re an idiot,” huffs Kaidoh after watching Momoshiro’s spectacular flailing show.  
  
“Shut up.” He places his arm behind his back in a very awkward position, and after a few more failed attempts, gives up and quickly stomps away before Kaidoh can give any more snide remarks.  
  
Today, for sure, Momoshiro will not get distracted by Kaidoh’s sweaty body, nor his regular body. And he certainly won’t _react_ to it either, that’s disgusting. The entire thing yesterday was disgusting. This is not happening again. Ever.  
  
Except, before the body is even covered in sweat, once Momoshiro’s eyes lock onto the muscles of Kaidoh’s abs as he twists and turns, he is once again ensnared. The snake’s back is turned to him, bending over down in the dirt, and Momoshiro has a lovely view of his physique back. The traces of his shoulder blades, to the shape of his muscles that contract and loosen as he digs some holes in the dirt. The spine that pops out, trailing all the way to the small of his back, disappearing behind white shorts. The shorts barely leave anything to the imagination, especially when he’s strutting it out like that up in the air, and Momoshiro can see that Kaidoh’s got a really tight ass; there’s barely any fat on it at all. The butt cheeks move out of his view, until Kaidoh’s head is popping up behind it, eyes gazing back at Momoshiro.  
  
Like his ass is on fire, Momoshiro panics and starts digging a hole right below his feet, and he nervously glances up through his eyelashes to see if Kaidoh is still staring, but he’s not. He sighs and slaps his own cheeks. This can’t be happening, Momoshiro can’t honestly be ... be ... _fascinated_ by Kaidoh’s body, right? Stupid eyes, stupid desert fever, stupid Mamushi. It’s all his fault for walking around in nothing but mere shorts.  
  
At first, Momoshiro thinks it’s an accident when their eyes meet. But then they meet again ... and again ... until Kaidoh’s gaze is burning a hole in his back. This should have made him wary of looking at Kaidoh again, in fear of being caught, but it’s not. In fact, it’s making his entire body grow hotter at anticipation, and he’s daring Kaidoh to watch him—which is _insane_. What the hell is wrong with him? And then Kaidoh’s dark blue eyes are staring into his own again, and he feels his heart thump faster, and after trying _so_ hard not to lose control, Momoshiro’s shorts start to tighten around his growing boner.  
  
Immediately he whirls around and lets himself fall down to the dirt, his hands and knees digging into the soft earth. He looks down his chest, and sees the obvious boner sticking out, and dear god that’s making his entire face turn red. That stupid desert fever returned with full force—seriously, what’s wrong with him!? The sunscreen didn’t help one bit! Not at all! Angrily, he claws at the dirt with his fingers, instead of using any of the gardening tools lying beside himself. It’ll go down, just don’t think about Kaidoh. Don’t look at Kaidoh, don’t even mention him.  
  
But it’s kind of hard to do so when Kaidoh’s sport shoes suddenly appear in front of him. Momoshiro breaks out in sweat from embarrassment, and he hopes that Kaidoh can’t see what’s going on in his own shorts.  
  
“Idiot, your back is as red as a lobster,” says Kaidoh.  
  
“Eh?” Momoshiro squeaks out in one of the most unmanliest voice ever.  
  
“You’re red all over, you didn’t apply the sunscreen correctly, you moron.”  
  
“Oh ...” He doesn’t fucking care. What he cares about is Kaidoh jumping off a cliff and dying, so he doesn’t have to deal with his body anymore. So that he doesn’t keep staring at his sockless ankles, or his calves, or his knees, or up hi—seriously, stop gawking at him! Damn his erection!  
  
“Do it properly,” Kaidoh hisses.  
  
“Shut up, I don’t care, mind your own business,” Momoshiro snaps back. He’s pretty sure that’s not a sunburn on his back, but the red flush that spread from his face to everywhere else.  
  
“Fine, burn for all I care.” Kaidoh finally leaves him alone and returns to his own work.  
  
Momoshiro’s arms are shaking, with his erection throbbing and pulsating with blood. It’s not going down, in fact, it’s the doing the opposite of going down; it’s getting harder and it’s ready to be used. He must be some kind of sick pervert to get turned on by looking at Kaidoh’s body—of all people in the world, which includes very hot girls with boobs and curves, it had to be Kaidoh. Kaidoh with his stocky build. Kaidoh who is a fucking _man_ , and definitely has no boobs or curves. Fuck. Fuck, fuck— _fuck._  
  
Any movement he makes, his shorts rub against his hard penis, and that doesn’t help at all in trying to get it to go down. Hiding it from Kaidoh also proves to be a hard task, as his shorts are loose, and when he stands up, you can really see it. Which is why he doesn’t stand up, instead, he’s still hunched over the dirt, pretending Kaidoh doesn’t exist. Again, this is really hard to do when Kaidoh keeps bugging him.  
  
A slap on his back makes him yelp out loud in pain and he throws his head back to yell at Kaidoh. “What the fuck!?”  
  
“Your back is shiny red, fucking dumbass. Rub yourself in properly before you die of skin cancer.”  
  
“Why the hell do you care, leave me alone—hey, let go of me!” Kaidoh has suddenly reached for Momoshiro’s arm and he pulled him up. Thankfully, even though Momoshiro’s boner is obviously pitching a tent in his shorts, Kaidoh quickly turns around and drags him towards the sinks, so he doesn’t notice. Or at least, Momoshiro sure hopes to god he didn’t notice. But Kaidoh touching him is really the last thing he should be doing.  
  
“Let me go asshole!” Momoshiro yells at him, and punches the hand that’s holding his arm.  
  
“If you die, they’ll all blame me for it,” Kaidoh hisses.  
  
“Who the hell cares, it’s just a sunburn.” Not really. “I’m not going to die from it.” Only from embarrassment. And if Kaidoh continues to hold Momoshiro’s arm like that, he’s sure he’ll be staining his shorts with precum very soon. He finally manages to yank his arm free and swiftly turns around to walk away.  
  
“Why don’t you stay put already!” Kaidoh grabs his hand this time, and shit that feels so amazingly hot that Momoshiro freezes in mid-action. Sweat pours from all over his body, but mostly from the palm of his hand, the one that Kaidoh is holding to prevent him from leaving.  
  
“Just ... stand still,” says Kaidoh in a voice that’s much lower than before. It sends vibrations down Momoshiro’s spine. This is really not good. The snake finally drops his hand, and he doesn’t have it in him anymore to run away, because his feet are rooted to the ground, and he’s absolutely terrified of Kaidoh finding out.  
  
Momoshiro wants to yell at him and run away, but his voice is soon lost when Kaidoh takes a step closer. He flinches visibly as he feels Kaidoh’s fingers touch his naked back, and the snake pulls back just as fast. Great, now he noticed it. Kaidoh’s fingers return, touching his shoulder blade, and even though he’s spreading a cold lotion around, his back feels like it’s catching on fire. He’s seriously rubbing his back in with sunscreen—and shit that feels so amazingly good that his erection starts twitching in excitement. Kaidoh’s hand runs along his spine, rubbing, smearing, _touching_ , does Kaidoh not know what the hell he’s doing to Momoshiro? He’s making him shake, tremble, explode with colour—and that’s definitely not a sunburn you god damn idiot. All he can do is stand there, trying to inconspicuously hide his boner, and hope to god that Kaidoh finishes up quickly and never notices a thing.  
  
Except Kaidoh doesn’t finish up quickly. It’s unbearably slow, or that might be time slowing down for Momoshiro. Whatever. It feels like it’s taking forever, and Kaidoh is being excruciatingly slow. His movements are deliberate and lethargic; it’s so gradual and sluggish that Momoshiro starts to think he’s doing this on purpose. Like he knows how much this is killing him with humiliation and hormones, and he’s finding enjoyment in this. Stupid fucking snake.   
  
It’s when Kaidoh traces his fingers around his lower spine that Momoshiro snaps his head back with a furious blush on his face. “I already did that part,” he says hastily. He clutches the side of his shorts to prevent himself from doing anything else.  
  
Kaidoh’s fingers tremble lightly against his skin, hesitating whether or not to pull back. “Stupid, you did it badly.”  
  
Momoshiro thinks he did an awesome job. “Shut up, get this over and done with already. You’re taking way too long.”  
  
“Don’t complain, dumbass!” Kaidoh hisses at him. Then he slaps the palm of his hand against Momoshiro’s back for good measure.  
  
He’s supposed to be willing down his boner, he’s not supposed to turn around and hit Kaidoh in the face—but boy did that feel good. Ahh, instant gratification. The erection momentarily forgotten, Momoshiro faces Kaidoh, smirking at him for having punched him.  
  
Kaidoh is holding his cheek when his eyes lock back onto Momoshiro. And they go lower. And lower ... and ... “What the fuck.”  
  
Oh crap.  
  
“That’s disgusting.”  
  
Momoshiro feels his entire body turn to stone; he’s been caught, Kaidoh has seen it. He can go ahead and dig his own grave now, because the ground is not doing him any favours and swallowing him up. Well shit—now what? Not that he can do much, besides stare at Kaidoh with a stupid look on his face as he bites down on his lips.  
  
So he does what he always does in a situation like this, he makes light of it. “No, it’s not,” he says.  
  
Kaidoh looks up at him with this weird expression, this ‘are you kidding me?’ kind of look. “Pervert,” he hisses.  
  
“Then stop looking at it.” Any moment now, and sweat will starts breaking out from all the pores on his body, and then the blood will finally stream back up in his face (seeing as all the colour had left it by now, showing nothing but a ghastly expression on his face), so that he can die of embarrassment. This is mortifying.   
  
“I’m not,” says Kaidoh. Except he is.  
  
And _that_ makes his blood churn and it finally flushes back into his head with full force. But now that it’s out in the open, Momoshiro simply refuses to turn away and let Kaidoh know how flustered he is. So he returns Kaidoh’s gaze and holds it, despite wanting to dig his face into his hands and run away screaming like a little girl, and maybe punch a tree.  
  
“It’s only natural,” says Momoshiro, and he laughs nervously, his shoulders shaking. “I mean, who wouldn’t be?” Yeah, shift the blame to someone else. Make it seem like it’s no big deal. Great. He can do this. “Working out under the sun, all this sweating, all this ... this ... touching. And ... _you_ with your stupid prancing around in only shorts. It should be a crime to dress like that.”  
  
“You’re dressed like that too!” Kaidoh immediately fires back.  
  
“At least I got socks.”  
  
“Shut up. Stop—stop _pointing_ it at me.”  
  
“I’ll point it at you all I want.”  
  
“You’re really disgusting!”  
  
“Whatever.”  
  
Momoshiro might sound like he doesn’t care, like he’s the most aloof person on earth, and thinks boners are no big deal, but on the inside, he’s whimpering in fear and embarrassment. He wants to kill himself after this. He can’t believe Kaidoh’s seen it, and he’s talking about it so casually too! This is simply mortifying. And then Momoshiro catches a glimpse at Kaidoh’s face; it’s as red as a crab. He’s taken aback at the reaction; Kaidoh can’t possibly be as embarrassed as he is, right?  
  
“Why is your face red?” he decides to ask. Maybe that’ll get the attention away from his boner.  
  
Kaidoh shuffles on his spot, then covers up his face with his hand. “It’s not.”  
  
Momoshiro snorts out loud. “Yes, it is.” He conveniently waves away the fact that _his_ face is red as well. That doesn’t matter. What matters is teasing Kaidoh so that he can save himself from this hole he dug. Anything is better than being reminded of the fact that his boner is still standing upright, and that seeing Kaidoh squirm at the sight of it is actually turning him on.  
  
“Shut up, it’s not,” Kaidoh says bashfully. He’s still hiding his face with his hand, and now he’s turning away from Momoshiro.  
  
But Momoshiro won’t let him give that satisfaction, so he takes two steps forward and grabs Kaidoh’s wrist, pulling it away from his face.  
  
“You’re absolutely glowing,” says Momoshiro. He feels himself smirk, and his embarrassment is slipping away. Time for the usual cool and collect Momo.  
  
Kaidoh tries to wrestle his wrist free, while simultaneously hiding his face away from Momoshiro’s view, which is stupidly failing, what an idiot. How can he hide when they’re directly in front of each other? But seeing him fidget under Momoshiro’s gaze, with his cheeks a nice deep red, he’s actually getting kind of a kick out of it. Especially since his wiggling is bringing forth all the wondrous details in his muscles, and now he’s actually up close enough to see them all. And suddenly, Momoshiro’s brain is overloaded with a thousand perverted thoughts; his hormones have finally taken over.  
  
He pushes Kaidoh up against the sink, and the idiot almost falls inside of it, but manages to latch onto the edge of the sink with his other free hand, to prevent from toppling over. He looks up at Momoshiro, with frightened big eyes, and he’s hissing at him. That hiss that’s sending tingly feelings down his back.  
  
“Let me go,” he spits out. Momoshiro leans closer, his body trapping him against the sink. “Momoshiro!” he yells this time.  
  
“It’s all your fault,” says Momoshiro. “All yours.” His boner is now touching Kaidoh’s pelvis, and it’s making his legs feel like jelly to finally get some sort of stimulation.  
  
“It’s not my fault you kept staring at me,” Kaidoh fires back, and his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. He tries to wriggle his way out of Momoshiro’s hold on him once more, but thankfully, Momoshiro is stronger.  
  
Momoshiro frowns. “You were staring at me too, stupid.”  
  
“That’s because you did it first!” Kaidoh glares at him, which sort of looks adorable considering his face is so red. Not only that, the flush is spreading to his neck, which is making everything look more sensual to him, he _really_ wants to touch it.  
  
“Yo, Mamushi—are you not telling me something, because you’re turning red everywhere.”  
  
“Shut up, I’m not!” Kaidoh whips his face to the side, exposing his entire red neck. Momoshiro loses it.  
  
Leaning even more forwards, Momoshiro bends his head down to Kaidoh’s neck, and plants his lips on the red warm flesh. Kaidoh immediately struggles against him, but fuck—that turns him on even more, and Momoshiro sucks on that soft skin of his, drawing all the blood to the surface.  
  
“M-Momoshiro!” Kaidoh gasps, pushing his hand against his chest. And then Kaidoh’s grip on the edge of the sink slips, and he falls back inside of it, with Momoshiro following him right afterwards. Kaidoh’s back is pressed up against the cement, in between two faucets, and Momoshiro’s knees are placed inside of the sink as well, sitting on top of Kaidoh’s waist and pinning him down so he can’t escape or even struggle.  
  
“Your fault,” Momoshiro mumbles against his neck. Kaidoh hisses in response, and he tries to break free, but his body starts to tremble when Momoshiro sucks on his skin again. It feels so hot, so damn hot under this sun, and Kaidoh’s way too hot for his own good. Momoshiro feels like he wants to touch him everywhere, and he doesn’t even give a fuck from preventing his other hand running over Kaidoh’s toned chest.  
  
“You were the one that touched me first,” he breathes out against his ear.  
  
Kaidoh makes some kind of strangled noise from the back of his throat, and again, that’s a real turn-on for Momoshiro for some unexplained reason. At the moment, he really doesn’t give a fuck; he wants to be stimulated. It’s impossible for him to not continue, his hormones are driving him crazy, and his head is being messed up by the desert fever to think straight. He thrusts his hips against Kaidoh’s, and his erection rubs against the fabric of his pants, and it feels _good_.  
  
“Fucking asshole,” Kaidoh snaps at him.  
  
Momoshiro pulls his lips away from Kaidoh’s neck and sits back a bit so that he can look at him, stare at him, ogle him? That’s also when he notices the lump in Kaidoh’s shorts. It’s pressing up against the fabric, and it’s really close to his own penis, and now Momoshiro knows that Kaidoh is probably as horny as he is. So he smirks at the snake, his other free hand traveling down from Kaidoh’s naked chest, to stop at the rim of his shorts.  
  
“Apparently, I’m not as much of an asshole as you say I am,” says Momoshiro. His index finger trails the bump, and he can feel the warm throbbing piece of flesh underneath it. Kaidoh once more tries to wriggle his way out of Momoshiro’s ensnarement, but the only thing he’s achieving, is rubbing his hipbone against Momoshiro’s penis, and that makes him gasp out loud and bite his lips.  
  
He grinds his hips back against Kaidoh, so that both of the lumps in their shorts rub against each other, and they simultaneously gasp out loud. Momoshiro lets go of Kaidoh’s wrist, and grips his hand on top of Kaidoh’s shoulder, with the other hand holding onto the ledge of the sink to steady himself, as he starts to rock his hips back and forth on top of Kaidoh’s waist. It’s rough, it’s hard, it’s almost kind of painful, but Momoshiro is riding the waves of the heat, and he starts to sweat all over his body, grinding into Kaidoh as hard as he can. Kaidoh is not even trying to get away anymore, his hands now free, and they’re clawing at the faucets next to him, which he accidentally turns on, and the water starts pouring out, rushing to meet up against his shorts and soaking him. Momoshiro’s knees get wet too, but he doesn’t care.  
  
Doesn’t care about anything but finding release.  
  
The friction against Kaidoh’s own lump is making his stomach do somersaults, while every muscle inside of his body keeps contracting and relaxing, over and over again. He squeezes his eyes shut as he rest his head against Kaidoh’s, his nose pricking into the nape of his neck, and he breathes harshly down onto his skin. Kaidoh’s own breathing is sloppy as well, and it’s right next to his ear; it sounds amazing, sending these chills everywhere down his body.  
  
He’s feeling hot and cold all over, which might have been because of the sun and the cold water running freely down the sink—but it’s probably because he’s grinding his boner against Kaidoh’s. Nothing really makes sense to him anymore, and frankly, he doesn’t care either.  
  
Everything is building up inside of him, it really didn’t take long for him to reach that point, not when he’s been feasting on Kaidoh’s body for hours, and he had to go and rub sunscreen on his back. His shorts are all but stained with precum and water, and he knows for sure he’ll be staining it a lot more in a few minutes.  
  
Just a few more rubs, a few more grinds ... he scratches Kaidoh’s shoulder as he holds onto him as if he’s his support. Kaidoh snaps his head back against the sink, and these tiny little gasps are getting released from his mouth. Momoshiro can’t help but sound exactly like him, his breath uneven and taking in hard and shallow breaths, and gasping and frothing with each new stroke. The sound of the running water covers up their gasps and grinding, but Momoshiro can hear it ring through his ears, as if it’s the only sound in the world.  
  
When Kaidoh’s hips respond to his excessive rubbing of their half naked bodies, Momoshiro almost collapses against him in one long drawn-out sharp breath. They’re both breathing loudly, shifting their bodies against one another. By now, Momoshiro has rubbed all of his precum onto Kaidoh’s own shorts—but he’s got some leaking out as well. And that’s actually really sort of hot.  
  
Kaidoh places his hands in the sink, the water runs through his fingers, and some of it splashes in Momoshiro’s face. He uses this leverage to push himself up against Momoshiro’s grinding. It takes a few awkward trials of fumbling around until they both find a rhythm where they’re in sync. They move together, up and down, grinding, rubbing, rocking until Momoshiro’s toes curl up and his fingers dig hard into Kaidoh’s shoulder.  
  
Their naked chests bump into one another and slide ferociously. Momoshiro’s entire skin feels like it’s flaring on fire, and all these delicious feelings are coursing through him; dry humping has never felt this good.  
  
Kaidoh suddenly puts his arms around Momoshiro’s back, his hands clutching at his shoulder blades, and pulling himself up so that his crotch rubs at such an angle that Momoshiro can’t prevent the moan from slipping out of his throat. Then he feels Kaidoh’s fingers tighten, and his body tenses with his movements becoming jerky and fast and hard, and Momoshiro’s eyes are rolling around in the back of his head. Kaidoh comes first, he knows this, because little strings of stickiness are attached to their shorts, and it’s a real mess down there. It does however, make it easier to hump and slide across the lump of Kaidoh’s penis, and Momoshiro hastens up as well, while Kaidoh’s simply trying to hold on as Momoshiro grinds into him hard and without direction.  
  
He chews on his lips and sucks in a deep breath, before sliding up and down one more time before all the muscles in his body contract, and then it lets go in a warm fuzzy sticky feeling. He can feel his shorts being stained with sperm, but that’s the least of his worries—not when everything is feeling good, and all these relaxed tingly feelings are riding through his veins. He continues to dry hump Kaidoh some more, his breath stabilizing, and their tempo slowing down.  
  
Soon, they’re slowly moving back and forth, taking in deep breaths, and their foreheads are knocked against each other for support.  
  
“Fucking asshole,” Kaidoh finally says out loud.  
  
Momoshiro can’t help but grin. He’s feeling good, he just got off, and he has managed to piss off Kaidoh as well. Even when Kaidoh pushes Momoshiro off of him and punches him in the face, he’s still feeling good and relaxed, and he thinks they should do this every day. Kaidoh runs away and leaves him to deal with the sticky after mess. Momoshiro sits inside of the sink with the water running down his head, onto his very hot skin.  
  
The next day, his skin is completely covered with blotches of red; apparently the water rubbed most of the sunscreen off, and he has really gotten a sunburn.  
  
But even then, they do it again, at the sink, when no one is around, and they’re grinding and gasping and frolicking around until both of them come. They don’t talk about it, certainly not, they don’t even mention it. It’s even a miracle they continue to work on the flower beds while simultaneously dry humping each other in secret. They act like nothing ever happened after wards, and still get into regular fights and hurl insults at each other.  
  
The day after that, they even do it in the flowerbeds, with Momoshiro pushed down in the dirt, and Kaidoh’s half naked body looming over him, rubbing against him. Momoshiro hopes to god Yamada will never find out, but he’s finding it harder and harder to give a fuck if he ruins the flower beds again.  
  
After almost two weeks, the flowers are all planted, watered, and everything is tidied and pretty and happy and flowery—and Momoshiro is absolutely brimming with pleasure considering he’s been getting off with Kaidoh every day since that first time. He’s never felt so relaxed before, even if sometimes he thinks someone might find out about them, then he feels scared and nervous. But no one ever does, no one even has an inkling of suspicion. And in Momoshiro’s opinion, that’s a very good thing, since he’s enjoying this to the max. And Kaidoh too, even if his face is always pulled in a permanent scowl, and he’s yelling insults, he gets very agreeable once the humping starts. Hah, he’s just as horny as Momoshiro is, and that makes him feel a little bit superior. Seeing Kaidoh’s red face gasping for air while squeezing his eyes shut is one of the most erotic sights Momoshiro has ever encountered. And he’s watched a lot of porn.  
  
Except ...  
  
They only do this when they were working on the flower beds. At the sink, in the dirt, around the corner of the brick school wall—but now that the flower beds are all ready and Yamada has released them from their enslavement, Momoshiro is worried that they’ll never do it again. Was it a one-time thing only? For as long as their punishment lasted?  
  
“Good job,” says Yamada with a smile. She’s inspecting the flowerbeds, looking at all the new sprouts. “It might take a while for them to bloom, but at least it’s not ruined anymore.”  
  
Momoshiro tries not to think about the fact that she’s standing in the spot where he was grinding against Kaidoh only the day before. He looks at Kaidoh, who is staring at his feet, and he’s probably thinking the same thing.  
  
Being back at the tennis courts feels extremely weird. He feels jumpy, and nervous, as if his teammates know what he’s been doing with Kaidoh. Tezuka demands they play doubles against Oishi and Eiji, to see how much they’ve improved. The only thing Momoshiro can concentrate on, is the fine shape of Kaidoh’s muscles as he delivers a solid boomerang snake, and Momoshiro’s mouth drops open in awe. He wants to fuck him against wall, right this instant; he’s looking fricking hot again.  
  
Clearly, they lose the match. Though it wasn’t such a land slide for the golden pair this time, Momoshiro thinks he did rather well, considering kept getting distracted by Kaidoh’s proximity to his own body, and the way his shorts framed his ... he should probably stop thinking about this.  
  
“Good match,” says Momoshiro. Kaidoh looks up at him from tying his shoes. “At least they didn’t suspect anything.”  
  
Kaidoh says nothing but hangs his head down, to hide the small blush appearing on his cheeks, but Momoshiro spots it. His heart thumps louder in his throat. They’re alone in the clubroom. No one is here, they already left. The only thing Momoshiro can think about is if they can do it again. To grind against each other’s bodies until they’re gasping and writhing and coming and relaxing.  
  
“We lost because of you,” says Kaidoh in a gruff voice.  
  
Immediately taken aback by the insults, Momoshiro glowers at him. “We did not! We lost because you suck, your stupid boomerang snake kept hitting the pole.”  
  
Finally Kaidoh stands up from the bench and he yanks at Momoshiro’s shirt. “And who’s the one who kept tripping over his own feet because he wasn’t paying attention!?”  
  
He can feel blood rush to his cheeks _and_ his crotch. “That’s different,” he replies. “It’s not fair when you’re running around like that.”  
  
“What?” Kaidoh looks genuinely confused.  
  
“What. Is it not obvious already?” snaps Momoshiro sarcastically.  
  
Kaidoh takes a few seconds to think about it, until his entire face turns red again, and he lets go of Momoshiro’s shirt. “Oh,” he says in a small voice.  
  
They stand there silently for a while. A bit awkward. A bit like that time when Kaidoh rubbed him in with sun screen. Until the both of them look at each other, and they move, push, and pull, simultaneously running their hands on naked skin. It feels familiar, just like the previous times. Momoshiro pushes his body against Kaidoh, trapping him against the wall, and he can feel both of their erections rubbing against each other.  
  
This time though, this time it’s a bit different. For one, Momoshiro hands are traveling down Kaidoh’s chest, and they wedge themselves underneath the rim of his shorts, until he’s inside of his boxers (so he _does_ wear them). As he grabs hold of Kaidoh’s already hard shaft, he knows that this is not like the other times. It’s more intense, and it’s hot, and he feels like he’s catching on fire again. The desert fever is returning in full force.  
  
His hand tugs at Kaidoh’s skin, pulling it up and down, and Kaidoh clutches his hands on Momoshiro’s back, his mouth letting out tiny moans right next to his ear. Momoshiro silences him, by covering it up with his mouth, and their lips are hot and dry, and it’s a bit awkward and experimental, but it doesn’t matter. Not when they feel like this, not when everything feels so hot.   
  
Then Kaidoh sticks his hand down Momoshiro’s shorts as well, his long bony fingers wrapping around his throbbing penis. And then he pulls too, and Momoshiro does it as well. They do this until they’re in sync once more, up and down, and their lips rubbing and sliding. It feels good, it’s the best feeling in the world, what with Kaidoh’s hand jerking him off, and his lips moving against his own. His own hand has never felt that way, and damnit, it feels so good, he’s going to come really fast if they keep this up. Especially since Kaidoh’s skin feels rough against his own, and it’s a feeling he’s never felt before.  
  
Kaidoh tightens his grip and he jerks him off faster, until Momoshiro moans directly inside of his mouth and he feels his body shake violently and he comes directly onto Kaidoh’s hand. He stops rubbing Kaidoh for a few seconds, savouring his own orgasm, before his brain fires up again and he jerks Kaidoh off real hard, and fast, until Kaidoh is the one gasping for air and coming over his hand.  
  
They don’t let go, they don’t part with their lips. They stare into each other’s eyes, with their breaths escaping through open mouths, it’s hot, and sweaty, but it feels good. Kaidoh feels good. Momoshiro kisses his lips, soft and tender, kind of raw, kind of new. Kaidoh kisses him back, and even though he just got off, even though he’s still relaxing in his fantastic orgasm, he feels a different kind of feeling well up inside of him. They move their lips softly, and it feels nice. Really nice.  
  
While it only took a minute or two for them to get off, they stand there for at least ten minutes, simply kissing each other, ignoring how their hands are sticky and their shorts are ruined once more. But they finally break it off, and they go wash their hands off at the sink in silence.  
  
Momoshiro sneaks a peek at Kaidoh as water runs down his hands. Is Kaidoh thinking the same thing he is? Does he want to continue this too?  
  
Kaidoh’s eyes glance at Momoshiro in the corner of his eyes, but he catches him looking, and the snake blushes a nice pink. Momoshiro grins in return, his cheeks also pink.  
  
“So you wear boxer shorts after all,” Momoshiro notes cheerfully.  
  
Kaidoh punches him in the gut and leaves him gasping for pain at the sink.  
  
But at least they do it again the next day.


End file.
